There came another flash of light. Intolerably bright. Right in her face. Blinded, Hæra reared her head back. The tug on her mane hurt, but at least she hadn’t bared her sharp teeth.

“Goodness,” Sister Madeleine gasped. The flash disappeared, but it took Hæra’s eyes, designed for the darkness of the deep, a moment to adjust again. “You poor thing! How in the world did you get under there?”

Hæra’s vision resolved. She blinked rapidly. Sister Madeleine’s face was before her, only a fin-stroke away, and it was upside-down. She’d bent over the side of the dock. The long cloth atop her head dangled down too, brushing the surface of the water. Her eyes were very wide.

They were also very green. Hæra blinked again. Sister Madeleine’s eyes were as green as the grass on Jorsay’s shore. Did all humans have eyes that were such a remarkable color?

“Well, never mind that,” Sister Madeleine said briskly. “It’s more important to get you out. I’m sure somebody’s looking for you.”

Not yet, but they would be. Eventually, her absence would be noticed, and someone would be sent to look. When her crime was discovered, the Sire might call for her to be torn to pieces by her fellows. Asgall would be first to volunteer.

The light shone in Hæra’s face again. This time, she closed her eyes before she was blinded.

“Looks like your mane’s caught,” Sister Madeleine continued, sounding a bit amused by the worst thing that had ever happened to Hæra. “Maybe you should keep it short like we do.”

Behind her closed eyelids, Hæra could still see the light roaming over her face. Thank the depths it wasn’t penetrating far enough into the water to show her tail. As far as Sister Madeleine still knew, Hæra was a beast of the land.

“I should call someone, but…”

Hæra bucked her head in protest and neighed.

“Good grief, calm down.”

Sister Madeleine’s face disappeared. The dock creaked as she redistributed her weight on it, right above Hæra.

“You’re just caught, that’s all,” Sister Madeleine said. If she thought Hæra was a land horse, why was she still talking to her, as if a dumb beast could answer back? It must be another human eccentricity. Then she laughed softly. “I wonder if this is why I found these scissors? Maybe I’m meant to rescue you. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

The who? The what? What were “scissors”? Hæra mustn’t panic. There had to be a way out of this. Think, think, think…

Then came a sharp sound, followed by another tug at the knot of Hæra’s mane wedged between the planks. It hurt—she thrashed⁠—